Sometimes They Listen
by WatchingTheAngels
Summary: Future AU: Castiel took a bullet for Dean.  Since he isn't an angel anymore, he couldn't heal himself and needed surgery.  It was successful, but now he won't wake up.


"Castiel."

Dean had never wanted to hear the ex-angel's deep voice say "hello, Dean" more in his entire life than in that moment. He had never wanted that stupid man to have his angel wings back and fly in on those invisible fucking wings, the ones Dean had never seen but could always hear as Castiel swooped in and uttered his greeting to tell him that it was only a dream. "Hello, Dean."

The dumbass had stepped in front of him and taken the bullet (like, a _centimeter_ from the heart) meant for Dean. Castiel hadn't died. No, because that would have made it easier for Dean. He could have grieved a dead man, not a comatose fallen angel with a taste for things the older Winchester brother had never thought to want. Like kissing another man.

Although, he had wanted to do many more things than just kiss Castiel when he had been a holier-than-thou angel with absolutely no sense of humor and owned possibly the worst trench coat in the history of ever.  
>If that stupid Croatoan virus hadn't happened, Castiel would still be an annoying angel and Dean a poor hunter with daddy issues like it always had been. Instead, Castiel was in a fucking coma and Dean was left trying to run a camp of people who either hated him or wanted to kill him, Sammy and Bobby excluded.<p>

"Castiel." He kept saying the name, occasionally falling back to the shorter version he still found himself using. Nothing roused him. Surly old Bobby kept saying he would come around when he felt like it, but that wasn't a reassurance as far as Dean was concerned. He needed Cas.

Taking a chunk of sheets in one hand and Castiel's hand in the other, Dean rested his head on the edge of the bed.

Without Castiel there, actually one thousand percent _there_, Dean couldn't sit still. His stomach would jerk at the sight of food. Sleeping in his bed, alone, was something he thought was long behind him since Castiel had become a permanent resident of earth. What was worse, he could swear that pure male smell of the sleeping man's skin was in the wind when Dean was miles away on a hunt. Concentration was impossible; more than once he put one of the other member's lives in danger when outside the compound because he was distracted. He wasn't a good leader without a right hand man, and he wanted no other man standing there but Castiel.

So there he sat. For a week he had been in that seat next to the bed where Cas slept. Every day had been grueling. When Castiel finally decided to wake up Dean was sure he might just put Cas back into his little coma.

When. Not if.

"Castiel."

Another day had passed. Again, Dean's heart cracked a little at the sight before him. This was no way for an angel to die. Not that he was really dying, but an angel of the _Lord_ shouldn't be in a coma like that.

Taking his customary seat, he waited.

And waited.

"Castiel."

It had been another two days of nothing. The surgery wounds were healing quickly for a human, but then again Castiel still had a little Grace left that he used sparingly on wounds he would get.

Like he knew these things would happen.

Like he had known this would happen,

Fucking angels. Ex-angels. Whatever.

"Please."

The whisper flew, too loud, around the room like the sound of Cas's wings used to, reverberating off the walls and reminding Dean that he was truly talking to himself. Dean had climbed onto the bed when he arrived, thinking perhaps the jolting would startle the bastard awake. Not even a twitch.

Taking the cool hand of his lover in his, he rested his forehead on Castiel's chest. A murmured prayer, the same one he's used every time he came to visit the past week in his head slipped to the tip of his tongue and fell out. "Please. Please, God, if you really are dead, you suck. But if you aren't, help him. He's your son and he loves you. I need him. I need you... I need you to help him." His heart couldn't take the words anymore, in his head or out loud.

Nothing miraculous happened. Castiel didn't suddenly lurch up, grab Dean in a rib crushing hug and proclaim, "I'm alive!", nor did he open his eyes and smile. Nothing happened. And his heart broke a little more.

Sighing, he tried his best to get comfortable. Even comatose, Castiel took up a lot of the twin bed.

"I love you."

Dean had never actually said those words to Castiel he had realized just last night as he lay awake in the cold sheets that refused to warm him. Feeling silly, he had even taken Castiel's pillow and smooshed it over his face to inhale even the faintest particle of his scent, but none was left. At the prospect of never having that slim, warm body pressed up to him again in the middle of the night Dean knew he loved Cas. Loved his ever-present bed hair, his ocean eyes, and even that ratty trench coat Castiel 'secretly' kept hidden in the back of the very small closet they shared.

Now he stood in the doorway to Cas's room, staring at the bed that held his world.

And he was very pissed off.

"Wake up." Dean stepped forward a few paces and stood by the bed. Shoving Castiel's shoulder, he said a little louder, "Wake up."

When that got him nothing, he busted, the panic he had held at bay flooded through his entire body, shaking him. Placing his angry hands on Castiel's shoulders he broke down. "Wake the fuck up you miserable excuse for an angel! Wake the fuck up so I can yell at you! Wake up so I can love you!"

Again, nothing.

Crying from the pain in his heart he curled up against Cas and fell asleep.

If anyone saw the outburst they knew better than to say anything.

"Dean."

Asleep, Dean could be with Castiel. See Cas' small smile. See Cas tip his head back and let loose a laugh that brought one out in Dean as well.

"Is he awake?"

'Hey,' Dean sent his dream invader. 'Stop talking. I'm with Cas. No talking when I'm with my Cas.'

"Get the doctor! Someone get the fucking doctor!"

Okay, that voice was definitely not in his dream. Opening his eyes a little he saw a whirl of movement by his head then felt a hard shove on his shoulder. Making a sound he would deny if anyone brought it up, he fell off the bed with a thud. He was about to ask why the shit he was on the floor when he stilled.

"Where's Dean? May I have some water?" Castiel's words were small, the force behind them weak. A small 'pop' sounded as the straw left his lips and he asked again for Dean.

Not one to make a show, Dean stood and sat on the crumpled sheets next to Cas's legs. "What the hell took you so long?" He asked with an edge of teasing.

"To what?" The ex-angel tilted his head to the side, bird like, then smiled as though he actually made a joke.

Scoffing, Dean shooed the nurse away and laid down next to his lover. "Just... Don't do something stupid like that again, okay?" One arm was under Castiel's neck, supporting it, while the other was laying on his chest, feeling the strong heart beat under his flesh.

He felt Castiel's smile on his cheek. "I'll do my best."


End file.
